


Steps Misdirected

by microparsec (MrsHorowietzky)



Category: The Protégé (Jan Hartman)
Genre: Gen, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-11
Updated: 2018-02-11
Packaged: 2019-03-16 22:08:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13645425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrsHorowietzky/pseuds/microparsec
Summary: Hardy takes Ramanujan for a stroll. He is not prepared for declarations of friendship.





	Steps Misdirected

“A Fellow! A Fellow of the Royal Society!“  


Hardy gave another laugh at the exuberance of his young protégé. The man would not shut up any time soon, so it was up to Hardy to ensure the rest of Trinity would not be roused as mercilessly as he had been.  


“Very well, I’m coming down! Stay where you are.”  


He stumbled back into the room to change, and was out of his rooms before he heard so much as a stir from the other residents in New Court. Starting down the corridor he only turned back briefly and snatched a muffler from the coat stand.  


Ramanujan was pacing around in front of the gateway underneath Hardy’s windows, and as soon as the Indian spotted him coming out the staircase, he came running, morning gown flying after him.  


“Hardy.” he cried breathlessly. “Look, look at this!” He pushed a letter into Hardy’s hand and then abruptly took him by the wrist, spinning him around, laughing all along.  


Swept along with this mad swirl of delight, Hardy almost uttered a childish giggle as the walls of West Gate flew past.  


“For pity’s sake, man, let go and let me read this bloody thing already.” he grunt.  


Ramanujan released him obediently and when Hardy inspected the letter, head spinning, it was all he could do not to succumb to the feeling of giddiness bubbling inside him.  


“Yes,” he whispered. “You’ve made it. Congratulations, Ram.”  


“Thank you.” His colonial protégé gazed at him with eyes wild and dancing, and Hardy feared he might break into another inappropriate display of excitement any moment soon.  


“Come.” He threw the thick muffler at the man. “Shall we walk for a bit?”  


They went out onto the Avenue and strolled down the row of old lime trees while the sun rose higher into the sky, crawling over the gables of the college, promising a pleasant English spring morning.  


Wrapped up to his chin in the scarf, Ramanujan simply walked at Hardy’s side for a long while, the exercise dissipating some of his exuberant energy.  


They had crossed Fellow’s Garden several times when the young man slowed his paces and turned to face Hardy.  


“Thank you.” he stated simply, his expression full of earnest feeling. “It is due to you that I enjoy the honour given to me.” He brought his hand forward and let it hang tentatively between them.  


“Oh. Well. I –” Hardy was at a loss. He looked down at the offer extended towards him. Deciding for propriety, he grabbed the hand firmly and gave it one good shake.  


“Tosh,” he said then, and drew his hand back hastily. “My contribution is but a small one. It is yourself you have to thank; and if you wish to acknowledge your patrons, you must not forget Littlewood.”  


“I couldn’t.” said Ramanujan. “But it was you who taught me the way of Western mathematics.”  


“I'll allow you that one.”  


“So thank you for teaching me, Hardy. And.” The man faltered. “And for your companionship.” He looked down intently at the stray leaves littering the path.  


“Nonsense.” Hardy detested himself for how his voice at times would quiver perceptibly. “Anyone could have done that, really.”  


Before his protégé could as much as give voice to the strange emotion coming over his face, Hardy pressed on. “Come now.” He turned towards the college. “It must be after eight. Let us descent on Littlewood and break the happy news of your election.”  


Without a glance back, he began on his way back to Trinity.  


After a moment, the sound of his steps were joined by a second pair of feet. Whether he was misremembering things or they truly lacked a little of the easy determination they had used to have this early morning, Hardy dared not tell.

**Author's Note:**

>  _The Protégé_ is a radio play back from 2000 by Jan Hartman for BBC Radio 4. It is mainly characterised by Hardy and Ramanujan being absolute _adorable_ dorks and yet still managing to misunderstand one another. Also, Ramanujan gets constantly called 'Ram' by Hardy.  
>  A foiled BrOTP.
> 
> [The play is up on archive.org](https://archive.org/details/TheProtggJanHartman)  
> Should it not be available any more, drop me a message in the comments (anonymous or unregistered is possible).


End file.
